Searider Falcon
by akmarceau
Summary: Antony Carlisle is just an ordinary man with a peculiar set of skills. One voyage changes his life forever.


Hi! This is a BattleStar Galactica fanfic on THE book. This was just an idea i had formulated and it might be more.

All the chapters I have so far coincide with a song, this chapter matches with _Hazy Shade of Winter_ by Simon and Garfunkel.

Chapter One

Water

or

in which Antony Carlisle learns his life will suffer from his choices

I watched from the riverwalk as waves pounded against the pilings hoping to claim it as its own. A lion claiming a gazelle.

Today was no ordinary time; the sun was higher, the sky was brighter, and the wind was calmer. Or so it seemed to I. There was a pause in the valley, and I could only imagine it was the tranquility before the storm. A lion watching a gazelle.

I glanced around at the unknowing couples huddled together in the noon of day laughing at some shared joke. She left me this morning and that had set me in a bad mood. The mood did not last as long as I had thought. She was a lovely lady with the name of Jessica, but she was nought to me as I was to her it seems.

Anastasia is where my heart belongs. And oh! the life I had to have with her. The strains my mind thought of this; in the end it was not right. Something was off. Yes, there was a difference in minds that did not match, nor did it seem they would match.

A waved crashed on the sand below, startling a seagull that took flight before the grasp of the sea's foaming white hands could take it to the depths.

I was then bored with the walk; the boards that clung to the salt water like a deprived lover, and the people who locked their hearts together on a fence before tossing a key to please the sea. _What if the fence falls?_ I wonder, _or if the love no longer lasts?_ That brought back Anastasia. Glimpses of her perfect smile, her gleaming white teeth, and her ballgown. She has a particular liking for a gown threaded with golden silk and the neckline that left little to the mind. It was in that image of her that I was reminded of why we went our separate ways. I shook my head with a sigh and continued the walk to my house in the center of town.

The three lanes of the busy streets were a pleasant distraction from my thoughts as I paid attention to the walk signals and car motors. Although in a large city with towering buildings and wealthy men in tuxedos, my house was as quaint as any countryside dwelling. The low wooden fence protected the little colonial house from the world. The green grass was nothing to be proud of; overgrown weeds and patches of dirt, but it was a yard nonetheless. I grew up in this place and I plan to stay here. The chipping red paint on the door reminded me of the list of repairs I have yet to accomplish. The brass mailbox, overflowing with unpaid bills and notes of sorrow from relatives and friends alike grieved in their own way. I could almost see the writing: _Sorry for your loss, I remember when…, It'll pass, Life will continue_. I could feel my features contorting and I almost wished I had not come back so early.

"News! News! Hot off the press!" The delivery boy called. The papers do not print at noon, and therefore would not be hot off the press. I turned and watched the wheels on his ratty bicycle spin in earnest to finish his route before the sun set. He nodded as he approached the walk way and tossed the paper blindly in my direction. I made no motion to catch it as it landed no more than two steps in front of me. The title was bold but screamed nothing of urgency. As I bent to grab it, I was reminded of my age as every vertebrae in my back cracked and rolled. I picked up the plastic bag that the paper was encased in. The chipped, red door open on squeaky hinges. The faded wood floors protested as I stepped into the familiar ground. Family pictures littered the surfaces in the entryway, lying haphazardly around the floors too. Yet another thing on a growing list that I had yet to complete. I opened the paper and turned to the _Help Wanted_ page. This house would not pay for itself. No one wanted help from someone of my skill set.

The house was trashed. Had been ever since early June, and maybe forever. The routine I had was bleak. If I felt adventurous, I went out for a meal. If my limps creaked, I went for a walk. It was a simple balance to stay happy and healthy. The most change I experienced was with every new girlfriend. Jessica, being the latest, was my most expressive. I was worried when she left, but life would now fall back into routine.

Sleep had always been evasive, and in the dark early morning, I brewed myself a coffee in a china cup (one of my mother's old ones) and made for the riverwalk. The tide was out and the expanse of white sand, dried in the breeze, shone against the pale moonlight. I sat on the edge of a piling, one foot on the walk one over the water as it swung with the waves. The red sun rose in the distance as the sea accepted the darkness.

The coffee was cold by the time the sun's rays were anything but a bloody red. I decided it was not worth drinking. The coffee blended into the sea as it lapped the piling. The china was not worth it either, it was my mother's after all and she certainly would not be using it anytime soon; never again as a matter of fact.

I passed joggers along the way. They were sweating and panting like dogs.

The house looked sad as I approached it. If only I could actually hear its thoughts. Maybe most of my questions would be answered then. If only walls could talk.

I made myself eggs for breakfast; scrambled and with a piece of white toast that I slathered with butter. I sat down at the old wooden kitchen table with a glass of orange juice. I had just finished cutting my eggs when the door rang. For a second, I thought to pretend no one was home. I could not handle anymore terrible casseroles or sympathetic looks. Dark eyes and faces I do not remember assessing my best interests for me. _Sell the house, find a place of your own, give away their items_. I had not wanted to do any of that; it would make everything too real.

The bell sounded again.

"Coming," I called out faintly. I opened the door to expose a mailman with a starched uniform.

"Delivery, sir. I just need your signature." I nodded as I signed the pad he presented. The loops and curves and strikes of my name were a stark contrast to the blocked type of the computer. My name haunted me. The mailman nodded in approval as he passed me a white folder that was labeled with more warnings than I had thought were invented.

 _Hand Deliver, Signature required, DO NOT forward, Do not Bend or Fold._ The one that caught my eye was _CONFIDENTIAL_. I knew no one in the government or militia, nor was I any official. I placed the envelope on the table in front of me. I finished breakfast looking at it.

I decided against opening the letter until I knew who the sender was. There was no return address. No note on the edge.

 _Open with Caution_.

The grandfather clock at the base of the stairs chimed twelve. I broke my gaze with the envelope and stood. I placed my breakfast plate in the sink. I glanced one more time at the envelope, almost to make sure it had not grown legs and walked away.

I grabbed my coat from the chair at the head of the table and walked out the door. I glanced again at the unopened envelope.

I made my way slowly to the cafe at the end of the block. My hands were clasped behind me as pondered the letter. _Why was I thinking so much about it?_ I wondered. _I should just open it and end this torture._ But for a reason I had yet to determine, my logical brain was screaming to burn it.

The cafe was small and hospitable. The red leather booths sank from age, the shiny top tables gleamed faintly from years of cleaning. It smelt like bacon and grease. I took a seat at the bar top and was promptly poured a coffee.

"What can I get you?" The waitress asked. She gnawed on he gum without care and her hair was piled too high on her head. She had her phone on behind the little black notepad where she took orders. She reminded me a little of Jessica. The complete carefree attitude was striking. _Did she not want to do something in her life? Make a claim to her name?_

"I'll have a tuna sandwich on rye, please." She nodded her head to the order, or the music in her ears. I looked around the cafe at the people doing what I was: getting out of the house. They were much older, some looked widowed, others decayed with time.

The room rattled. Everyone's heads turned towards the outdoors. A red car flew around the little cafe. It rattled again. The waitress no longer looked distracted. Her doe eyes landed on the front windows. Her fingers had already dialed the officers, her thumb was resting over the call button. Forks fell from the tables, and glasses crashed, shattering against the tile. The car pulled away, backing down the road. It revved its engine.

"Clear the room!" One of the old men called. "Clear the room!" He cried again as he started to shuffle people from the room. His attempts were in vain as the car peeled and headed straight for the cafe. The waitress's finger pushed the call button and I could hear her mutter for it to hurry up.

I was too shocked, I should have moved. I should have listened to that man. _Clear the room_. My feet started to move. I stood from the bar stool just as the red power car crashed into the front of the cafe. The booths split as the vehicle forced its way into the cafe. Someone screamed. The car shut off with ease, as if someone had just parked it in a garage.

"Had to make an entrance," a man said as he stepped from the car. He started to close the door, "Oops, almost forgot." The black gun he pulled from the car was lethal. My eyes took in the weapon worriedly. I looked around the cafe. The man who started to clear the room laid lifeless on the floor buried under the shiny table. There was a young mother with two kids, one in an infant basket and the other a little toddler. The toddler was screaming as her arms were wound around her mother. The man rolled his neck. "What an awful noise. I never had kids." He pointed the gun in the rough direction of the mother and pulled the trigger. Three bullets flew. Two striking the toddler who fell limp and one the mother who could not breathe. The man walked towards me and I froze. Something was wrong. I tried to move my legs, but they were trapped under the now fallen bar top. I struggled against it for a moment. "You're in quite a situation, mate. Let me give you a hand." I stopped breathing. He walked towards the bar top and gave it a look. He placed one foot on top of it and pressed down. I flinched at the added pressure. The man grinned wickedly. He put both feet on it and balance precariously. I ground my teeth and tried to show no pain. He bounced on the table top and I felt a bone snap. I groaned in agony. "Your name?"

I took a deep breath, "Antony."

"Antony _what_? I'm looking for one in particular. You might be him," the man said, point at me with his gun.

"Antony Carlisle." The man lowered his gun.

"You pass. Did you get a letter today, Antony? Read confidential and all that good stuff?" I nodded. The man stepped off the bar top that was pinning me down. His booted foot rested by my head. He used his gun to roll my head to the side. The boot was planted on top of my ear with force. "Don't get on that ship, mate. I was sent to warn you. They've got some nasty stuff planned." He crouched lower to the floor, his gun pushing against my chest. "Why would they want a man of your skill on a ship like that?" The waitress had pulled herself from the floor and was looking scared over the counter. The man smiled and the gun lifted from my chest. He fired again at the waitress. Her body fell with a thud. The man tossed his gun out the ruined window as he got into his car. The infant cried.

The police were quick to arrive. Followed by ambulances. They took the mother first, then a few of the older men, and finally, when the firemen arrived, me. The bar top was removed agonizingly slow, and when I was finally free, I almost wished they would place it back down. I fainted.

When I woke, there was a monitor attached to my arm and a nurse waving a wand over my chest.

"Good morning!" She said cheerfully. Her hands ran over the casts on my legs. She nodded happily. "These are healing quite nicely. You might get out on good behavior here!" My eyes followed her movements blankly. I raised my hand only for it to be yanked back down on chains. "That was just a police precaution," the nurse explained. An officer entered the room looking concerned. "Speaking of police. Excuse me," the nurse said politely as she backed out of the room.

"I just have a few questions to ask," the officer said slowly. He removed the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists quietly and looked around the room. The white walls were as uninviting as they should be. "What were you doing at the cafe?"

I smiled sadly, "Breaking habit." The officer took notes.

"Did you know the man in the car?" I shook my head. "Perhaps you've passed him int the street, or worked with him at an old job?" I thought as hard as I could but the mans sneering face and dark eyes did not match any of the people I remember meeting.

"I am sorry, officer," I said quietly. The officer nodded and passed me his card.

"If you remember anything please let me know." I took the card and looked at it. _Officer James Howard Caprica City Police Department._

 **Please review!**


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